Confrontations
by Ms-Figg
Summary: HGSS A very weird Crossover fic in which Hannibal Lecter is a Muggle Professor at Hogwarts, teaching the rather wooly subject of Psychology. Possible warnings NC, lemons, cannibalism, graphic violence, humiliation, psychological torment.
1. A Number of Situations

**Confrontations A Crossover Fic Featuring Hannibal Lecter**

"Psychology...a wooly subject, Miss Granger?" Professor Lecter said to the young witch quietly, his eyes glittering.

"Yes, I believe it is," Hermione said defiantly. They were standing in the main hall, near the dungeon entrance

Professor Snape, who had just exited the Staff Room, was passing by Professor Lecter and Miss Granger on his way to the dungeons and slowed. He had heard what the Professor said to the seventh-year and her reply.

"Well, so you believe," Professor Lecter purred, looking Hermione over, "How about I offer you a profile. A profile of a witch who never believed she belonged. Who was strange, who was lonely, who was an odd duck from the day she was born."

Hermione stared at him. Snape arched an eyebrow.

"A witch who always felt she had to prove herself better than the others, who uses knowledge as a kind of pedestal she can climb upon and look down on others from. She has to feel the best because secretly she fears she is the least. She overachieves, just to be...average. A witch who clutches her pillow every night and cries in the darkness, dries her eyes in the morning and puts on a costume of confidence, a costume full of rips and holes. A witch who moves in the shadow of greatness, basks in the glow of a boy who lived, clutching at the hem of his robes day in and day out. She screams "NOTICE ME!" desperately, afraid no one hears..."

Hermione's lip was trembling now. Professor Lecter's eyes shifted towards the Potions Master and he gave an ugly smirk. They turned back to Hermione.

"A witch who has a dirty little secret that she uses to rub between her legs between her tears in the dark, the name of a professor on her lips...fantasizing about dungeons and masochistic sex..."

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, clamping her hands over her ears and running for the main stairwell, Professor Lecter staring after her for a moment before he looked at Snape again.

"So much for wooly subjects," he purred, walking past the dark wizard.

* * *

Professor Hannibal Lecter sat at the high table with the other staff members, looking down on his meal. He had ordered Carpaccio, a dish made with very thin pieces of raw veal served with a dressing of olive oil, lemon juice and other seasonings. The veal rested on a bed of green radicchio salad leaves, and accompanied by several thin slices of Parmesan cheese.

Professor Flitwick looked at Lecter's meal with interest. He was always interested in trying new things…off of other people's plates.

"That looks quite delicious, Professor Lecter," he said to the Muggle instructor.

Hannibal looked down on the tiny wizard.

"It is…fair, Professor Flitwick…though not quite what I prefer…but the texture is close enough if not the flavor," the Professor purred, "And the portions are quite small."

"I see," Flitwick said, frowning slightly. By saying the portion was too small, he had effectively kept the Charms Professor from asking for a piece.

Hermione Granger entered the Great Hall, not looking up at the dais at all. She was flushed and looked as if she had been crying. Hannibal looked at her then smirked, pointedly looking down the table at Professor Snape, who was eyeing the witch with a thoughtful scowl.

Lecter chuckled to himself.

"So predictable," the Muggle thought as he sliced through a piece of veal. "The anti-social, dark wizard that dwells in the dungeons and pretends to hate all contact with the human race, not to mention harbors great house rivalry, has a fantasy concerning pounding some young, Gryffindor pussy to bits, and now that he has found out there is a bit of hot twat with his name on it, he's trying to figure out just how to get at it while keeping his job. Coupled with years of frustration and aggravation with Miss Granger in the classroom, no doubt revenge figures heavily into his plotting. He will begin to work on her psyche and her fantasy life by finding some way to open her up…possibly the illegal application of veritaserum, then, once he understands what drives her desire, making himself even more desirable, coming in closer contact, lingering over her, making innuendos and heavy eye contact…his purpose to seduce the young witch into the dungeons after curfew. Tsk, tsk, Professor. And you see yourself as a reserved wizard when you are just as lecherous and randy as anyone else. Good hunting, sir. You are as dishonorable as they come."

At that moment, Snape looked down the dais at the Muggle, frowning slightly.

Lecter toasted him with his goblet of wine, and smiled darkly.

* * *

In the Great Hall, Sybil Trelawney looked down the table longingly at Professor Lecter. For years she had been sweet on Professor Snape, but it had been decidedly one-sided. The Potions Master didn't care whether she lived or died, and told her so on numerous occasions. He wasn't a wizard to hedge on words. Sybil's affections were as wanted as a basilisk bite as far as the dark wizard was concerned. And ten times as poisonous.

When Hannibal Lecter arrived at the school, Sybil found him quite attractive with his reserved ways and soft voice. His dark brown hair and almost black eye color set well with the witch. He was no Severus, but he was always a gentleman, something Sybil appreciated, especially compared to the Potions Master, who had no problem being rude.

Professor Lecter pegged Sybil almost the moment he learned of the post she held. The bangles, trailing scarves and hollow seer voice showed him how desperate she was to be taken seriously, not realizing it was these very aspects that showed her to be less than what she was. The truth was Sybil was an aging, lonely, sherry driven fraud. This was not to say she did not have a gift…but that it was not a gift she could call upon when needed. She lived an illusionary life, imagining greatness that just wasn't there, as well as a lover that would never become more than a fantasy in Snape.

Yet, for all her physical faults of being too thin and emotional faults of being too needy, she had the most delicious pair of lips Hannibal had ever seen. Full, luscious, tender. Lips that seemed wrong placed upon her less than fleshy face. Lips that didn't belong to her sparse frame.

The Muggle wasn't blind. It was obvious the witch was attracted to him…and he was attracted to those full lips if nothing else. The hunger that he forced down for the past few weeks reasserted itself with force.

It would be simple really. Sybil was so starved and so susceptible to her own desires that he could feed his need without being exposed.

When Hannibal appeared in the infirmary and asked Poppy for a bit of her marvelous healing potion for his personal use, the medi-witch willingly gave it to the Muggle. It was rare that anyone showed so much appreciation for something so common in her stores.

Now it was only a matter of responding to Sybil's signals and using his knowledge to thwart discovery afterwards.

This need not end in death.

* * *

Hermione was on the upper floors of the castle doing her rounds. As Head girl she had to make a cursory sweep of the castle each night before she retired, looking for errant students out after curfew. She started on the bottom floors and the Head boy started on the top floors and they checked behind each other, Professor Snape doing his own sweep whenever he felt inclined. Unlike Hermione, he could do his sweep at any time.

Tonight, he started his patrol quite early, so was on the upper floors when Hermione arrived. She hadn't thought to asked Horace Shacklesby, the Ravenclaw Head boy, whether the Potions Master had started his rounds yet, and Horace didn't think to tell her he had passed the dark wizard on his way down.

Hermione walked down the dimly lit corridor quickly. The upper floors were always a bit eerie, but a place students frequented…there were plenty of niches and empty rooms. Hermione thought she heard a noise and lit her wand.

"Who's there?" she called, taking a defensive stance.

Professor Snape walked out of a room, gliding toward her silently, his black eyes glittering in the wand light.

"Professor Snape," he purred stopping a few feet from her.

Hermione's heart jumped for a moment when the dark Professor appeared. She put out her wand.

"I didn't know you were on your rounds, Professor," she said to him, hoping her voice wasn't quavering as much as she thought it was.

"You're not supposed to know. It's how I keep my edge. Miss Granger. The element of surprise," he said as Hermione's wand hand dropped to her side.

Suddenly Snape pulled his wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he hissed.

Hermione went rigid and the Professor caught her before she toppled and leaned her back against the wall. Hermione's eyes shifted wildly. Her eyes were the only part of her that could move. What was Professor Snape doing?

"Fear not, witch. I just need to see something," he said, "I don't think you would have been very cooperative had I simply asked you. I don't have time for games. Legilimens."

The Potions Master cast the Legilimency spell so quickly Hermione couldn't slam down her Occlumency walls in time.

The wizard went straight to her fantasies about him. Yes. Lecter was right about her…what she dreamed about him. He watched himself fucking her in his classroom, office, dark corridors and niches without a hint of tenderness or affection. His expression was harsh, hungry and he punished her young body as she screamed, clutching at him…wanting even more. He mocked her as he took her.

"I am more impressed by your pussy than your brains, Miss Granger. You didn't get this twat out of some book," he breathed at her.

She orgasmed.

Professor Snape pulled out of her mind. Hermione, although frozen was completely red all over. She had seen what he had seen and just wanted to melt through the stone floor. Snape looked at her consideringly.

"You are very twisted, Miss Granger, wanting me to brutalize you. I have to admit, your little fantasies are quite arousing. It appears Professor Lecter was correct in his profiling of you…at least where I am concerned, though I am doubtful he has the right of you in his other perceptions. To me, it was as if he picked out your insecurities, your deep-set fears rather than your truths. We all have our insecurities and secret fears, witch. It is how we handle them that makes us who we are. You are going to have to buck up as far as that goes…but your little obsession with me…now that is another story. One I will pick up later. Obliviate," he purred.

Hermione found herself standing in the empty corridor with her wand lit. Why her wand was lit, she didn't know but she put it out and continued her rounds, unaware anything untoward had happened at all.

* * *

"How could I not notice you, Sybil?" Professor Lecter purred at the witch as he sat in her cushion strewn living room, sipping a glass of sherry as the Divination Professor looked at him with dreamy eyes, "You are quite noticeable. Especially your lips. Your lips are exquisite. I have a very strong desire to taste them. So strong…I almost feel I can't help myself." 

"You do?" Trelawney said, her voice becoming husky.

Sybil had been quite surprised when there was a knock on her trap door at one in the morning. She had been sleeping sprawled on the couch, still inebriated from her sherry consumption when she became aware of the sound. Groggily, she felt about the floor for her glasses and put them on, then pulled her wand out from under the cushion her head was resting on and rose, approaching the trap door cautiously.

"Who is it?" she hissed.

"It is Hannibal, Sybil. Forgive the lateness of the hour and my forwardness…but I simply must see you…speak to you," Professor Lecter replied in his soft voice.

Hannibal? Had he felt the stars drawing them together? Had the power of destiny moved his heart and drawn him to her side? Yes. Yes. The Powers that Be had brought him to her for a night of love and passion…the Fates had finally drawn the thread of romance, the main strand missing from her life. She practically ripped the trap door off its hinges opening it and letting the Muggle in. It didn't matter Lecter wasn't a wizard…he had another kind of magic that worked on her.

She invited him in and poured him a glass of sherry, and he told her he felt an attraction to her, a very carnal hunger that he couldn't restrain himself from. Sybil felt as if she would burst into flame as his soft voice touched her heart…not to mention another lower area. It had been quite some time for the witch. Years.

Sybil was more than ready to play catch up. She rose unsteadily from the mound of pillows she rested on and moved to the couch, sitting beside Lecter.

"Tell me more about my lips," she breathed.

"They are extraordinary, Sybil. The food of the gods," he said softly, his dark eyes resting on her mouth.

Sybil sighed and pursed her lips. Lecter licked his own as he looked at them. Not yet. Not yet. There was something else he had to do first.

"Look into my eyes, Sybil. I want you to completely relax…cast off the cares of the world," he said hypnotically. Sybil's enlarged eyes met his through the thick lens of her glasses. She felt herself relaxing deeply.

"Good. Good," Lecter said, his voice dropping lower, "Listen to the sound of my voice…it is the only sound that registers, the only sound that matters. My voice alone, Sybil. Listen and let it take you over."

"Yes, oh yes, Hannibal," she breathed, the Muggles voice taking precedence above all else.

Lecter tapped his glass on the coffee table top lightly.

"What do you hear, Sybil?" he asked her.

"Only you…you," she breathed, her eyes glazed.

"You will do what I say without question," Lecter intoned.

"Without question," Sybil breathed, swaying towards him. She was under now.

Lecter studied her mouth.

"Sybil, the world is full of pain, so much pain it can become unbearable. And you have felt pain, the pain and ache of loneliness, years and years of loneliness. I am going to take that pain away…take all pain away," he said softly, reaching into his robes pocket and drawing a very sharp thin filleting knife, the bottle of healing potion, a large plastic bag, neatly folded and a smaller clear bag. He set the potion and plastic bags on the table.

"You will feel no pain. No pain at all," he said.

"No pain," Sybil replied dreamily.

"Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them," Lecter said.

Sybil did so.

He stuck the tip of the knife into her forearm and cut a small line. Sybil never flinched. She felt nothing. Lecter ran his finger over the thin line of blood that oozed from the wound and stuck the tip of it in his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss as he swallowed down the sweet, metallic taste of it.

"Good. Good. Now you will remain very still," he breathed, putting down the knife, picking up the healing potion, uncapping it and dabbing a bit on his fingertip then drawing it across the small wound. It healed immediately.

"Yessss," he whispered, placing the open bottle down on the table then picking up the plastic bag and shaking it out. He tore a hole in the bottom of it, then slipped the bag over Sybil's head and drew it down so it covered her body, leaving her head showing. He pushed her hair back and picked up the knife.

"Poke out your lower lip," he said softly.

Sybil obeyed him. He caught hold of it and pulled it out farther.

"No pain," he breathed as he placed the knife flush against the edge of her mouth and carefully went to work.

* * *

Bon Appetite 

The house elves didn't find it strange that Professor Lecter once again came down to the kitchens in the middle of the night to cook. Since his arrival at Hogwarts he came to the kitchens at least twice a week to cook himself a meal, saying he enjoyed cooking.

At first the elves tried to help him, but it went quite badly…the Muggle becoming angry and ordering them to leave him alone. So now they did. They were uncomfortable around Professor Lecter anyway. He wasn't magical, so they couldn't perceive service for him, nor know his secrets. His food orders had to be pre-written out and delivered to the kitchen for them to prepare his meals. He sent his preferences in for the next day the night before with specific instructions on preparation, which the house elves grumbled about. They were excellent cooks. But apparently he had his own preferences as to flavoring and since they couldn't foresee his preferences, the creatures had to work with what directions he gave them.

The house elves turned on the magic stove for him as the Muggle collected two frying pans. The flames would extinguish themselves when he was finished.

Professor Lecter removed his robes and proceeded to round up what he needed. A piece of unsalted dried codfish, a few small potatoes, fish stock, several cloves of garlic, fresh parsley, olive oil, a few threads of saffron, half a shallot, a carrot, a leek, a ripe tomato, a red pepper, black pepper and almonds.

Lecter soaked the codfish in hot water for about four minutes, during which time he peeled and diced the potatoes. He then cooked the onion and garlic slowly in olive oil, then sauted the potatoes, codfish, adding a bit of water and saffron. He covered this and let it cook for several minutes until the potatoes and fish were tender, then removed the stock, putting it aside.

As the potatoes cooked, he cut up the carrots, leeks, shallots, tomato and red pepper. He added a bit of olive oil to another pan, then added the vegetables and almonds. Lecter looked about for the house elves, but they were all in their cupboards. He cautiously reached into his robes pocket, taking out a baggy containing two long thin slices of meal. He swallowed down the saliva that filled his mouth at the sight of them, then quickly added them to the sizzling vegetables, searing them quickly, then removing everything from the heat.

He quickly prepared his plate, everything smelling delightful. He added the saffron potatoes and codfish, then the meat and vegetables, salted it lightly, then set the plate on the counter for the flavors to blend a bit as he carefully washed, dried and put away the pots and pans.

His mouth watering, Lecter pulled up a stool, sat down and tasted the codfish and potatoes. Delicious. He then tasted the vegetables and almonds. Mmmm.

But it was when he sliced through the delicate flesh of the lightly cooked meat and slowly, almost reverently slid a small piece between his lips, that he felt heaven and earth meet in a rush of perfect texture and flavor as he chewed.

God . . . God . . . it was wonderful and extremely satisfying.

Letting out a deep sigh of pleasure, Hannibal Lecter, gentleman cannibal, set about devouring his meal with gusto.

* * *

Students arriving at Divination Class the next morning found a note pinned to the bottom of the trap door that simply read: 

Divinations class cancelled until further notice.

Rejoicing, they climbed back down the ladder, hurrying off to enjoy their free period.

Albus Dumbledore had not attended breakfast in the Great Hall, but he did show up at lunch, looking grave as he took his seat at the High Table. When the hall filled, he stood up and tapped his fork on a glass, the high pitched tinging ringing through the hall. Everyone stopped eating and looked up at the Headmaster.

"Professor Trelawney has met with a very unfortunate…er…situation, and is currently in St. Mungo's hospital. Because of the ongoing investigation I am not at liberty to say what has happened to her. I can say, however, it will be quite some time before she returns to us…if she returns at all. A suitable substitute will be found in any case," Albus said rather darkly, returning to his seat.

Everyone returned to their meal, murmuring about the mysterious circumstance surrounding the Divination Professor's absence.

"Sounds like foul play to me," said one red-haired student to another, "Why else would there be an investigation?"

"Yeah," the other student agreed, biting into a tart.

Sybil had awakened on her couch in the living room, groggy from sherry and her face feeling strange, particularly when she tried to lick her lips and felt only teeth. She stumbled into the bathroom for her usual morning dose of sober-up potion, looked in the mirror…and screamed.

She had no lips and her teeth showed in a skeleton-like manner. She screamed again and again, finally stumbling to the floo, throwing in some powder and flopping through face-first into the infirmary.

For the first time in her life, Poppy lost her composure and screamed when she helped Sybil up and saw her condition. The medi-witch helped the sobbing woman to a cot, pulled the privacy curtain and summoned Albus immediately.

After several applications of calming draught, Sybil had calmed enough for Poppy to examine her.

"Her lips were removed somehow…and it was done by someone who knew what they were doing. The repairs to her flesh are seamless, with no scarring or raised areas. It looks as if she never had lips," Poppy said, amazed.

Albus performed Legilimency on Sybil, but found no recollection of anything happening to her. Then he did a deeper spell, designed to reveal any magical manipulation of her mind. He found nothing.

Then, with several Aurors from the Ministry, Albus returned to Sybil's rooms and carefully went over it, finding no trace of foul play at all. Not even as much as a drop of blood. They were all perplexed. How had this happened? Who could have done such a thing to the witch and left no incriminating evidence?

Albus then questioned the house elves to find out if they saw anything unusual in the castle the night before. They all answered in the negative.

Yes, Professor Lecter cooked a meal last night, but that wasn't strange at all since he'd been doing it since he first arrived at Hogwarts. So the elves never even mentioned it.

As for Professor Lecter, he went about his business as usual. Schooling young minds in the subject of psychology, expressing only a passing sentiment of sorrow at Sybil's unfortunate situation.

"How sad for her," Lecter said soberly to Flitwick at supper that evening as he ate sushi.

"Yes," Flitwick replied, "Too bad she didn't see that coming."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore addressed the staff several days later in the staff room. All were present, including Professor Lecter and Professor Snape.

"We have been unable to discover who attacked Sybil in such a manner, or how they managed the attack. Furthermore, we don't know if she were purposely targeted by someone who had a grudge against her, or she was simply an unfortunate victim of opportunity. The department has a theory that a disgruntled individual who might have received a faulty prediction might have taken revenge on her 'lying lips' as it were. Currently, we have no suspects and I am asking all of you to stay vigilant and watch for anything untoward," Albus said, adjusting his glasses.

The staff all murmured agreement. They would be on watch and make sure their own rooms were carefully locked and warded at night.

"How is Sybil, Albus?" Minerva called out, "Can they do anything for her?"

Albus let out a small sigh before he answered.

"The healers have done all they can. Sybil is going to be transferred to a Muggle hospital where she is going to receive what is called "reconstructive surgery." In essence, they will physically rebuild her lips so she can at least close her mouth. They can't promise she will be as she was, but they will do their best," the wizard replied.

The staff shuddered. Surgery meant cutting into the body. It was a messy Muggle business. No doubt Sybil was in for a lot of pain.

Snape looked less than sympathetic. The foolish witch was lucky her lips were all she lost. The Potions Master was of the opinion if she didn't drink so much, this probably wouldn't have happened to her at all. Besides, he was glad Sybil was gone. Those magnified puppy dog eyes she constantly gave him grew more and more nauseating as each year passed. He had seriously considered slipping the witch a hate potion to permanently cool her ardor. Well, she had her own lips to think about rather than his now. And that was a good thing.

Albus and the others droned on in the background as Snape turned his attention toward Hermione Granger. With everyone so on point, it would be even more difficult to get the young witch into a position where she could be "compromised" by him, preferably in several very penetrating ways.

The wizard scowled blackly.

Why couldn't Sybil keep her damn lips to herself?

* * *

Hermione and her fellow classmates sat in seventh-year Potions class, wondering where Professor Snape was. Normally, he would be seated at his desk glaring at them as they entered. This wasn't like the wizard. 

"Maybe he's sick," Neville whispered.

Yes, Neville Longbottom managed to make it into Snape's advanced Potions class with a lot of hard work, determination and tutoring by Hermione Granger. This was another grievance the Potions Master held against the witch. Neville should have been out of his class years ago.

"He's too snarky to get sick," Harry hissed, falling silent as the door was flung open and Professor Snape strode in, slamming the door behind him and stopping at his desk, whirling so his robes billowed about him. His black eyes swept over the class.

"Put your books away. Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, go collect cauldrons and pass them out to each student. We are having a competition," he said silkily.

Hermione perked up. A competition? She loved competing, since she usually won.

"There will even be a prize, which will be announced to the winner at the end of class. A number of points will also be given…so those of you with less than stellar grades…"

Here Snape's eyes fell on Neville meaningfully.

"Would do well to do your very best work. It could make the difference between passing….and failing this class. Particularly you, Mr. Longbottom," the wizard said with a sneer.

Neville turned bright red at being singled out by the Potions Master, but the blush faded quickly. He was used to Snape's needling.

"Now," Snape said in a business-like manner, "You will be brewing Forgetfulness Potions…"

Snape looked at Harry.

"Mr. Potter, there is a cart in the other room with a number of ingredients on it. Go and get it," he ordered.

Harry stood up and did as the wizard asked, wheeling the cart in and stopping next to Snape's desk. Harry returned to his seat as Hermione studied the ingredients.

"There are more ingredients than necessary," she thought to herself, "Some don't even belong in the potion."

Snape looked at Hermione, knowing she knew that there were extra ingredients on the cart. He smirked then addressed the class.

"From this cart you will select the base and ingredients needed to brew the potion. It will take no more than forty-five minutes from the time you add the base until the time you add the final ingredient. Now approach the cart row by row and collect what you need to brew," the wizard said, walking around the desk and sitting down. He noticed Harry and Neville putting their heads together.

"And no talking!" he shouted, making both young wizards jump.

Silently the class collected the ingredients and started brewing, wondering what the prize would be. This was something new for Snape…giving a prize and extra points. Hopefully it was a good prize. Extra points were always appreciated.

After forty-five minutes and several explosions later, the competition was over, Snape inspecting each cauldron and making caustic comments about each as well as the brewer, then he stopped in front of Hermione's work area. He peered down into the cauldron, then flicked his eyes at Hermione and said nothing as he walked away. Hermione bit her lip. She knew she had done it right.

Snape returned to the front of the class.

"Scourgify your cauldrons, except for Miss Granger. You bottle your brew. It is passable," he said to her as Hermione smiled brightly, looking at the scowling students on either side of her as she bounced on her toes.

"Yes…yes, you win, Miss Granger. Your penchant for over-achieving has paid off," Snape said snarkily as he walked to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk and scrawled a chapter to be read on the board.

Hermione hurried to the back of the class, collected a bottle and a stopper that fit it, then quickly tapped the cauldron and the neck of the bottle. It filled and she capped it, bringing it to Professor Snape's desk, setting it down and looking at the wizard expectantly as he read over a parchment. Snape looked up at her with an irritated expression.

"Is there some reason you are staring at me like some type of curly-haired basilisk?" he asked her snarkily.

Hermione reddened.

"I…I just wanted to know what I've won," she said, excitement in her voice.

Snape scowled at her.

"I specifically said the prize would be announced at the end of class, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should brew yourself a bit of wax-away potion to clean out your ears. Now go sit down and read the chapter I assigned you!" he snapped at her.

Hermione went back to her desk and read, looking up at the clock from time to time waiting for class to end. Snape did a bit of marking then looked up at the clock himself.

"Stop reading. Tomorrow there will be a quiz on that chapter, so be prepared…if that's possible," he said, "Class dismissed."

"Wait!" Hermione cried out as the class began to stand up and put their books away, "What did I win, Professor Snape?"

"Ah yes…the prize. You have won thirty points for Gryffindor and a trip into the Forbidden Forest with me tonight to harvest Fluxweed when the full moon rises. Congratulations, Miss Granger."

The wizard exited the classroom.

Neville looked at Hermione in horror.

"A bit of bad luck there, Hermione," he said to her, his eyes wide.

The other students murmured in sympathy. Harvesting with Snape? Most would rather be bitten by a dragon.

But Hermione was excited. She had never harvested Fluxweed. It was something new.

"It won't be so bad," she said, putting her books in her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, "I want to learn how to do it. You have to be very, very precise as to when you cut the plant."

Harry blinked at Hermione, then said, "You know, Hermione…sometimes I think all that knowledge you've crammed into your brain has really screwed up your thinking. More than likely Snape will have you doing something horrible, like…like…sprinkling thestral dung around the plants he isn't harvesting…without gloves."

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione said, frowning at him. He would say something to ruin her expectations. Well she was going to make the most of it.

As far as Hermione was concerned, this really was a prize.

* * *

Professor Lecter was on his rounds. Since Sybil's incident, each staff member had a night to do a final patrol before retiring. The silently made his way through the corridors, ignoring the few students he heard shagging. He was looking for someone blood-thirsty, not hormonal. Besides, Lecter liked to see the animal nature indulged. He certainly indulged his own. He was just exiting the third floor corridor and about to mount the shifting stairwell when his maroon eyes narrowed.

Hermione Granger was making her way down the stairs, and it was after eleven o'clock. Hermione saw him and paled slightly. Professor was the last person she wanted to meet up with after his profiling of her. But she had to get to Snape's office. She was already late.

Lecter stepped on to the shifting stairwell but didn't move as Hermione walked toward him. He wore a slight smirk.

"Out after curfew Miss Granger. That calls for a loss of house points as well as a few detentions," he purred when she stepped on the landing.

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to the Muggle. Lecter scanned it, then gave a small leer, his eyes resting on Hermione's face. She blushed horribly.

"A late night harvest with Professor Snape, eh, Miss Granger. I expect plucking plants is not the only act that will be performed tonight," he said to her in his infuriating soft voice, "Of course you know the wizard is aware of your…shall we say…attraction to him."

"Professor Snape wouldn't care about that. He hates me. It's just a crush anyway. I'll get over it," Hermione said, frowning. This wasn't the kind of thing a staff member should be discussing with a student.

"Professor Snape will fuck you, Miss Granger. Be assured," Lecter purred, "Probably tonight. There is a reason he is taking you into the woods. A forbidden forest to harvest forbidden fruit."

"Stop talking to me like that," Hermione said angrily, "I will report you Professor, I swear I will. It's inappropriate."

Lecter's maroon eyes hardened for a moment, and he looked so sinister in that instant that Hermione felt a cold clench of fear inside. Then his face turned solemn.

"I am just trying to warn the lamb going to slaughter," he said softly, "but go. Go among the wolves then. See what the bite brings, Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape is a staff member of Hogwarts. He would never do what you are claiming he would. I am a student that he is giving a chance to learn something new," Hermione said, still scowling at the teacher.

Lecter smirked.

"That he is, Miss Granger…that he is," the Muggle said, then he turned and mounted the next set of shifting stairs and rode away without another word.

Hermione turned and hurried down the stairs.

Professor Snape would be livid she was late, but she could always blame Professor Lecter.

* * *

Hermione knocked on Snape's office door. It was yanked open immediately, Professor Snape scowling down at her blackly. 

"You're late, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor," he snapped, walking back into the office, Hermione followed, her face in a frown.

"But you just gave me thirty points for winning the competition," she complained as he shoved a satchel into her hands.

"Yes, I gave them to you, Miss Granger, but it is up to you to keep them," the Potions Master replied with a nasty smirk as he picked up another satchel and strode out of the office, Hermione running out behind him.

Snape shut the door and pulled out his wand, warding it securely.

He looked at the witch imperiously. Hermione stared back at him.

"Keep up, or it will cost you more points," he growled, taking off down the corridor, robes billowing.

Hermione hurried to keep up, thinking all the while that the wizard intended on taking back every point he'd given her. He was the Head of Slytherin after all, and there was the house cup to think about. She should have known he wouldn't give Gryffindor house a heads up. The bastard.

They entered the main hall then Snape stopped at the main doors and made several intricate motions with his wand. The doors opened and he walked through, followed by Hermione. The wizard turned and made the intricate motions again, warding the doors back.

"Come along," he said, looking up at the sky.

Hermione kept up, panting a bit as she and the Professor made their way across the grounds, past Hagrid's hut and into the Forbidden forest. The trees were close and the forest dark. Snape pulled out his wand.

"Lumos," he said, the tip lighting brightly. He stepped over roots, and ducked under low branches, taking a rather convoluted route through the thick trees instead of a path. Hermione soon lost her bearings as they continued through the thick darkness. She couldn't find her way out of here if she were to get lost. She moved so close to the Professor she stepped on his robes, checking him. He spun on her.

"Watch where you are stepping you clumsy girl! Five points from Gryffindor!" he hissed at her before turning and walking forward again.

Hermione fought back a curse and continued to follow Snape, wishing he'd trip over something and break his big nose. But the wizard moved through the forest easily. He was familiar with it.

Finally they came to a clearing just as the moon rose, its light illuminating the area brightly. There were plants with closed buds scattered about the clearing. They lifted their heads and blossomed into pale trumpet shaped flowers.

"Open your bag, take out the knife and cut as many plants as you can!" Snape hissed, his bag already open, knife in hand. He darted into the clearing and began quickly cutting the plants.

Hermione hurried over and examined one of the plants.

"Professor, this isn't fluxweed. It's moonflower," she called over to him.

"I know what they are you twit! Start cutting!" the wizard hissed back at her, "And hurry! If a cloud covers the moon the flowers will close and won't open for another month! Get to work!"

Hermione began cutting…thinking Professor Lecter was crazy. There was no way Professor Snape found her at all appealing. If he did, he would at least act nicer. Wizards that wanted to fuck witches always acted nice. How else could they do it?

"Rape," a small voice said in the back of her mind. It sounded a lot like Professor Lecter.

"That's insane," Hermione said to herself.

Professor Snape wasn't paying her any attention as he worked swiftly and deftly, gathering the cut blooms in his pale hands.

At least, that's what she thought.

* * *

Suddenly the moonlight disappeared.

"That's it," Professor Snape said, straightening as the blooms closed again.

Hermione looked at what she had gathered. Not too bad really. The moon came back out and Snape walked over to her and looked at what the witch harvested. He didn't say anything as he walked back over to his satchel, took out a burlap bag and put his blooms in it. Then he walked back to Hermione and held the bag open.

"Put them in," he said shortly.

Hermione did so. Snape set the bag on the ground, turned and looked at Hermione consideringly.

"Go gather some wood," he said to the witch.

Hermione blinked at him.

"Wood?" she asked the wizard perplexed.

"Yes, wood. I want you to get wood," the wizard said, his face contorting a little when the perversity of the comment hit him. He scowled.

Hermione blinked at him again, pulled out her wand and walked the perimeter of the forest, gathering wood as Snape asked, wondering what he was doing.

She brought back an armload. Snape pointed at the ground.

"Drop it there," he said, drawing his wand.

Hermione did so, and the Potions Master used his foot to make it into a pile. It was a very neat pile actually. Obviously he had done this many times before. He pointed his wand at it.

"Incendio," he said, igniting the pile of wood.

Then he sat down before it, cross-legged, staring into the flames.

Hermione stood there and watched him for a while, then said, "What are you doing, Professor?"

Snape looked up at her with a frown.

"I've decided not to let your presence hinder my normal practices after harvesting," the wizard said, "I often sit in the forest and…contemplate. It is peaceful here, away from the aggravation of Hogwarts. I spend one or two hours here before returning to the castle."

"Oh," Hermione said, sitting down on the other side of the fire, cross-legged also.

Both witch and wizard were silent for several minutes, then Snape's eyes rested on her for a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask with a serpent on it…of course. He uncapped it and took a small sip, Hermione watching him.

"Liquor?" she asked the wizard, who sighed, his face relaxing more than Hermione had ever seen before. The normal frown line between his brows seemed to melt away and the hardness to his eyes softened somewhat.

"No," he said, his voice softer and silkier now as he continued looking into the fire as if entranced by the flames, "It is cannabis draught."

Both of Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her forehead as she looked at Professor Snape, whose eyes seemed a bit bloodshot now.

"Cannabis as in marijuana?" she asked with a squeak.

Snape nodded. Normally such an idiotic question would have prompted a snarky retort. But he was too mellowed out to bother.

"But…but that's a drug," Hermione informed him.

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow at her, then to her shock, actually smiled.

"A natural drug," he responded, "I don't like the smell of it clinging to me when smoked, so I imbibe this way. I find it quite relaxing."

Good gods. Professor Snape was a pothead. And he had smiled. He wasn't smiling now but Hermione was sure he did. He didn't have a bad smile either. His teeth were crooked but so were most people's teeth. He didn't have on his normal scowl though. He just looked…well…relaxed.

Hermione became curious.

"What's it feel like?" she asked him.

Now Snape did frown slightly.

"I can't describe it to you. I can only say it brings me a moment or two of peacefulness. The world isn't so ugly," he said, looking up at the moon, "I began using it shortly after Albus made me a spy. It helped me deal with Voldemort and his tortures. It also eased my pains when I returned to Hogwarts broken and beaten. Healing potions weren't enough. Now I use it recreationally."

This was the first time Professor Snape had ever said anything that didn't contain at least one insult or snap. Hermione looked at the flask curiously. Cannabis wasn't illegal in the wizarding world. There were several recreational drugs that wizards used from time to time, though the effects of most could be stopped with a simple incantation from the user.

"Professor, can I try some?" she asked him.

"Are you the age of consent?" the wizard asked her with a half-smile.

Hermione nodded.

"I turned eighteen in September," she replied.

Snape handed her the flask. She opened it.

"Only a li…" Snape warned as Hermione took a huge gulp.

"Shit," Snape breathed, taking the flask back from her. She was going to be blasted. He had only swallowed about half a teaspoon.

Hermione's eyes fluttered, and a laziness filled her eyes. Then she looked up at the moon amazed. It was huge, almost close enough to touch.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, Snape shaking his head.

They both sat there in silence for several minutes again, then Hermione suddenly started giggling hysterically. Snape looked at her.

"What is so funny, Miss Granger?" he asked her as she turned red.

"Professor Lecter stopped me tonight. That's what made me late…well later than I would have been. He read my pass and told me you were bringing me into the woods so you could fuck me. Isn't that the most hilarious thing you've ever heard?" she said, bursting into full-fledged laughter, "Like you'd even think about such a thing? You? Snarky, doesn't-like-anyone Professor Snape? That's…that's too much to even consider. Professor Lecter is mad."

Snape looked at the witch.

"I would never fuck you, Miss Granger," the wizard said silkily, "Unless of course, you wanted me to."

Hermione stopped laughing.

Fast.

* * *

"Professor Snape…did you just say you'd have sex with me?" Hermione asked, blinking at him. Everything just became even more unreal. 

He looked at her then stretched out his legs and fell back on his elbows and took a deep breath.

"I actually said I would fuck you if you wanted me to. Normally, I wouldn't have been so direct, but cannabis has the effect of lowering the inhibitions and I really didn't feel like bothering with all the verbal sidestepping such a conversation generally entails. You are eighteen and not a stupid witch if an aggravating one. You understand the implications of what I've said. Since you are the age of consent I am simply treating you as I would any adult witch," the wizard said, the firelight catching his eyes.

Hermione stared at him, then back at the fire without saying anything. Snape sat back up, picked up the flask, uncapped it and took another small sip. The witch started laughing again, though there was a rather wild look in her eyes.

"I can't believe this. Professor Snape, are you a lecher? I'm half your age," she said.

"I'm no more lecherous than you, Miss Granger, since you are interested in me and I am twice your age. Are you trying to tell me you can fantasize about me but it is wrong for me to respond to you? That is distinctly one-sided and unfair, Miss Granger. Extremely unfair," the Potions Master said.

"I don't…" Hermione began to lie.

Professor Snape gave her a penetrating look, disapproval on his face, though he was still relaxed.

"Don't bother, Miss Granger. You are a terrible liar in any case. Besides, I heard your reaction to Lecter's profiling. If he wasn't telling the truth about me, you would have protested instead of ran. You never let anyone get away with being wrong if you can help it. Even…teachers. It's just not your nature," the wizard.

Hermione fell silent again.

Professor Snape stared up at the sky. There were only a few stars visible because of the full moon, but he liked to contemplate the night sky when he was high. It was so deep, beautiful, eternal. The small lives of men were nothing compared to its constancy. Humans rose and fell like waves lapping at eternity's shores. Everything was fleeting compared to such…such foreverness. He was just a shallow breath expelled from the mouth of time, a sigh of finite existence fluttering across space doomed to dissipate as if never here.

"Professor Snape," Hermione said in a small voice, "I know why I am attracted to you, sort of…" she began.

"I know as well. It's my good looks," the Professor replied, laughing.

He had a rich, deep laugh. Hermione had never heard it before. But she found she didn't like hearing it at his own expense. No, Professor Snape wasn't handsome…or nice for that matter. He didn't seem like the proper wizard to get hot and bothered over in the middle of the night…but for her…he was.

"You're…you're not ugly," Hermione said softly. The Potions Master sat up frowning a bit.

"Look at me, Miss Granger. Really look at me and try to tell me I am an attractive man," he said to her.

Hermione did look at him. His lank hair, his pale skin, his dark eyes, large beakish nose, his cruel mouth. No he wasn't handsome. But his mannerisms, his voice, his presence, his intelligence and yes…even his cold sarcasm and snarkiness was very attractive to her.

"You are an attractive man, Professor, at least to me," she responded. "There is more to a person than physical beauty. Besides, your face suits you."

Snape stared at her for a moment, then he burst into laughter again, covering his eyes with his hand as he chortled. Finally he lowered it and peered at Hermione, his face quite red.

"My face suits me. Always the contrary one, aren't you Miss Granger?" he asked her, "Always the one looking for the 'deeper understanding, the deeper meaning.' I assure you with me, what you see is what you get."

The Potions Master felt his stomach growl. That was his sign to go. He had the munchies. He stood up and extinguished the fire with a bit of water from the tip of his wand, making sure all the embers were out.

"It is time to go, Miss Granger. The kitchens are calling and I am sure the house elves have a thick slice of chocolate cake stashed there," the wizard said gathering up his satchel and the burlap bag.

Hermione stared up at him. That was it? That was all he was going to say about this? Wasn't he…wasn't he going to at least try to pressure her a little? They were all alone in the woods after all, and she said she found him attractive. Hermione didn't have much experience with sex, but she thought that the wizard was supposed to make the first move. Maybe Professor Snape didn't know how to do that…yet she doubted it. He was such a demanding wizard she believed he'd have no problem asking her to fuck him if he wanted her.

Maybe it was because he was her teacher and he felt it would be an abuse of his authority that he hadn't tried to take it any further. Besides, she didn't know if she would do it. It's one thing to fantasize about a man, but another thing to actually act on it. In any event, Professor Snape was leaving and she'd better follow him if she wanted to get out of the forest.

Snape strode ahead, feeling the effects of the potion slowly lifting.

He had planted the seed.

Now to wait to see what grew.

* * *

Professor Snape watched as Hermione caught the shifting stairwell and ascended to the floor that the entrance to her house was on. When she disappeared down the corridor, he reduced both satchels and the burlap sack containing the moonflowers and headed for the kitchens. 

When he arrived, he was surprised to see Professor Lecter cooking. The Muggle looked up at him, smirked and nodded, then returned to his food, stir frying some vegetables. Several pieces of pink lean meat lay on a plate beside the stove. It looked like veal.

"I need service," Snape called out.

Immediately a house elf appeared with a huge slice of chocolate cake, a fork and a large glass of cold creamy milk. The elves knew what he liked. Snape took the cake from the elf without a word of thanks and sat down on a stool drawn up to the counter.

Lecter dumped out the stir fried vegetables, tossed the meat into the same pan, swirled the strips about for a moment or two, then added them to the vegetables. He also sat down at the counter and began to eat. After a moment or two of silence, Lecter looked at Snape, who was blissfully consuming his cake.

"So, you and Miss Granger took the Forbidden Forest by storm tonight, Professor," Lecter said to him rather suggestively.

Snape stopped eating.

"I cannot say by storm, Professor, but we did harvest some plants," Snape said.

"Moonflowers."

Snape scowled at Lecter. No one was supposed to know he harvested moonflowers. How did this Muggle know?

"What?" the Potions Master snapped at him.

"Moonflowers. I can smell them on you," Lecter said, "I familiarized myself with the flora and fauna of this world immediately. However, what I don't smell is Miss Granger."

Now Snape put his fork down.

"What do you mean by that, Lecter?" he growled.

"I would expect you to smell of pussy after being alone with the witch. Obviously, you missed your opportunity," the psychiatrist said, popping a piece of veal into his mouth and looking at Snape with his strange eyes.

A low growl escaped Snape.

"If you are implying…" the wizard began.

"I am not implying anything, Professor. I know what is in your heart concerning that young woman. I can't blame you really…she deserves a good ramming for all the trouble she's put you through over the years. I suspect she's been the cause of several of your stripes," Lecter purred at the wizard, "You've given blood for the witch…a very precious commodity. You are well within your rights to want something in return from her.'

Snape stared at Lecter, saying nothing.

"Since you obviously haven't fucked her yet, I suppose you spent tonight planting a seed in the witch. A sexual seed that you are hoping will grow into a full-fledged encounter. You are shrewd, Snape. You want the witch to come to you so if there is any nastiness as a result, then she will be seen as the pursuer and not you. She will have 'asked for it.' And you plan to give it to her, don't you Professor?" Lecter said softly, his eyes piercing as he met Snape's.

Suddenly Snape rose from his stool and strode toward Lecter, but the Muggle was on his feet in an instant. The two men faced off, Snape looking down at the Muggle. He had several inches on Lecter, but the psychiatrist evidenced no fear as his eyes glittered up at Snape.

"I suggest you keep your profiling of me to yourself, Professor. You think you know me, but you don't," Snape said, a small snarl on his face, "And if you even bring up myself and Miss Granger to another staff member…"

"Ah, Professor. I am a psychiatrist, and in that aspect…I am much like your beloved house elves. I keep secrets, Professor, because I have my own. Besides, I believe whole-heartedly in gratifying the animal urges. I find nothing wrong with fucking a woman who wants to be fucked, particularly if she is of the proper age. Your secret is safe with me," Lecter responded.

"There is no secret!" Snape snapped at him.

"So you say, Professor," the Muggle replied, relaxing.

Lecter returned to his seat. Snape studied him for a moment then walked over to his food and picked it up. He looked back at the Muggle.

"Stop profiling me, Professor. This is the first and last time I will tell you this. If I hear anything that remotely sounds like your 'estimation' of me, I will call you out. Since you are Muggle, no magic will be used. I will beat you like your father with my bare hands," Snape said to him in a low dangerous voice.

Hannibal arched an eyebrow at the wizard.

"Yes, doing a bit of profiling yourself, Professor. My father did beat me…as yours did you," Lecter said to him, already disregarding the wizard's warning, "But without magic, Professor or the protection of actually being my sire…I am sure you will find that beating me 'like my father' will not be so easy, if possible at all."

Snape went stiff. Was Lecter challenging him?

Lecter made a big production of sniffing the air.

"I can smell the testosterone level rising," he purred at Snape, "Whether it is because of me or Miss Granger I can't be sure…but both of us are more than ready for you, Professor."

It took all of Snape's strength to exit the kitchen leaving the smug Muggle to his meal. He carried his cake and milk down the dungeon corridor, his face contorted. He would have loved to have planted his fist in Lecter's face, but there was something that stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was. The bravado of the Muggle perhaps? His confidence?

Although Hannibal Lecter could not do a lick of magic, he still had the aura of a dangerous man. Snape recognized it because he himself was quite dangerous. The Potions Master had only suspected it before, but after tonight he was sure there was more to Professor Lecter than being just a psychiatrist.

He would require further study.

* * *

"Mischa! Noooooo, Mischa!" Hannibal screamed in his sleep as he relived his little sister's brutal murder when he was a child in Lithuania.

Once again he and his family were hiding from the Nazi war machine. This time they were found. And his sister killed.

"Run, Hannibal! Ru…"

His mother's voice was suddenly cut off and the Muggle awoke and sat up in his bed, covered in sweat, tears running down his cheeks.

"Mischa, my sister," he breathed, his chest rising and falling, "How I loved you."

Hannibal fell back to the four poster bed, his maroon eyes narrowing as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. His face contorted.

"But they paid, Mischa, they paid for what they did to you. I found them, those…those predators…I avenged you," he whispered to the child ghost smiling at him in his mind, "I also found I am the ultimate predator, dear Mischa. I am the dragon in the eaves, the fang in the shadows, the hunger that never ceases…"

The Muggle yawned.

"…but selective…so selective," he purred sleepily, dropping back to sleep with a small, grim smile.

* * *

The next day in Potions class, Snape managed to take the rest of Hermione's points. He took ten points for her being one minute late and five points for questioning a mark he gave her last essay.

"That's not fair, Professor," Hermione said sullenly, crossing her arms and slouching in her seat.

"Whatever gave you the idea this was a democracy, Miss Granger?" he purred at her before launching into a lecture on the properties of moonflower blossoms.

The students hurriedly pulled out their quills and parchment to take notes.

Hermione frowned at him as she took out her quill and parchment. After they talked last night, she expected him to act…well…nicer. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. After all the wizard didn't say he wanted to fuck her, but he would fuck her if she wanted him to.

Did that mean he desired her? Or just that he was willing to meet her desire?

Then again, it could have been the cannabis talking and the Professor didn't mean any of it. Hell, he might not even remember what he said.

Hermione studied the wizard as he paced back and forth, making eye contact with the class, his silky voice filling the quiet classroom. Hermione found herself drifting away to the sound of his voice, imagining how he would sound if he were…

"Miss Granger, are you paying attention?" Snape demanded, standing in front of her desk and scowling down at her. She wasn't writing anything down. Hermione jumped and looked guilty.

"No, you weren't," he said, his eyes glittering at her, "Ten more points from Gryffindor. Hopefully the point loss will help you regain your focus. Now, as I was saying…"

The Professor billowed off. Hermione fought the urge to stick out her tongue at his receding back. She'd never fuck him. He was too much of a bastard to want to give any pleasure to that way. Better she find some wizard her own age to shag.

Shag.

That even sounded unsatisfying. Like something trivial. Frivolous. A kind of game.

Once again she began to drift off, having a waking fantasy about being bent over one of the stools, Professor Snape hanging on to her breasts and driving into her roughly, a snarl of lust on his face as his lank hair swung back and forth from his efforts, the wizard purring obscenities at her.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione snapped out of it again and looked up at the wizard rather hotly, licking her lips. Snape was caught off-guard for a moment. Lust was written all over the witch's face before she realized how she was looking at him and blushed deeply. Luckily she sat in the front row and no one else got a good look at her expression directly. The other students could only see her profile, and her curling hair partially hid that.

"Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice a bit raw despite himself, "Focus…on…the…lecture. You don't want to end up in detention with me, do you?"

Hermione, still turned on by her waking fantasy, thought about saying, "Yes. Yes I do want to serve detention with you, Professor. All night," but instead said, "No sir. I don't."

Snape's dark eyes met hers for a moment as if he knew she was lying, but he returned to the lecture again. This time Hermione took notes, forcing herself to stay focused on what he was teaching.

Snape was forcing himself to stay focused as well. He had slipped into her mind before he took her to task the second time and saw what she was fantasizing about. The Potions Master had to pull out of her thoughts quickly, or he would have had an enormous erection. It was bad enough he had tightened. If Hermione hadn't been so caught up in her fantasy, she would have felt him watching her thoughts. But strong emotion interfered with the mind's sensitivity to intrusion.

As he returned to his seat, lecture completed, Snape hoped the seed he planted in the randy young witch wouldn't take too long to grow.

He wanted to give Hermione Granger her fantasy…and then some.

* * *

Hermione continued sending signals to the Potions master, signals that were affecting him greatly. He looked at her with a distinct expression of growing displeasure as she gazed off into space, sloe-eyed and flushed.

"Enough of this," he thought to himself as the bell sounded that heralded the end of class.

The students hurriedly packed up their books and placed their parchments on his desk. Hermione was the last to do so.

"Miss Granger, you were less than focused in class today," the Potions master said to the witch, his pale face twisted slightly. "What distracted you?"

Hermione wanted to say, "You did, Professor" but didn't. Instead she blushed.

"An interesting reaction to my question but hardly one I can garner an answer from, Miss Granger," Snape said. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"Tell you, Professor?" Hermione repeated, her heart starting to pound as the wizard stood up, pulled out his wand and warded his classroom door. Slowly, he made his way around the desk, Hermione backing away slightly as he approached her.

"Yes, tell me," the Professor intoned, leaning toward the witch, his closeness making Hermione's belly tighten deliciously. "Something you wish me to know . . . or to do?"

There was heat in those dark eyes as they narrowed, seeming to look into her very soul and see the longing there. The need that was bubbling inside her, the desire to just give herself over to this cold, dark and arousing wizard. To know for herself what it would be like to have him possess her, to take her and do what he would to her.

Snape saw the answering heat in Hermione's eyes, heat and innocence, the longing for the unknown, the flowering of womanhood.

"Do you believe yourself ready to face the mystery?" he asked her silkily, "because, witch, you are driving me to distraction with the way you are looking at me. It is clear you want me and I must admit the idea of taking you is appealing. Quite appealing. It will be a thorough, eye-opening experience, Miss Granger, if you will only give in to your desire."

Hermione swallowed, her eyes resting on that cruel mouth.

"Would you kiss me, Professor? I just want to see if . . ." she began, her words suddenly cut off as Snape darted forward, wrapping his arms around the witch and pulling her into his body roughly, covering her mouth with his own and thrusting his tongue between her lips, claiming her heat as he pressed against her hungrily, overwhelming Hermione with his maleness, his desire.

Hermione's head spun as she felt him on her, his lean body moving sensuously against her own, grinding his erection into her belly with strength. Oh gods, he wasn't gentle at all as he buried his fingers into her hair and plundered her mouth, turning her toward his desk and backing her into it. Fire burst between her thighs and she never wanted him to stop moving against her and she began to helplessly press back against him, feeling the wizard begin to breathe heavily, his hand tightening in her hair as he guided her head.

Snape was quickly losing control as he lapped at Hermione's hot, willing mouth and felt her young, curvaceous body responding to his. He lifted her to his desk and bent his knees so his cock pressed directly between her thighs, the witch moaning into his mouth as he worked against her mercilessly. Dear gods, he had to fuck her . . . soon. His hand slid down the small of her back, then around her waist and upward, grazing the side of one full breast. He felt her shuddering and with an effort pulled away from her mouth, his black eyes blazing as he roughly jerked her head back, glaring at her.

"I won't be denied," he hissed, "enough games witch. Tonight, you will come to me, or I will retrieve you from Gryffindor tower myself. Understand me?"

Hermione couldn't speak. He was still pressed between her thighs, his hardness taking her voice away. She could only stared up at him with hot, wet eyes.

"You understand me," he said, releasing Hermione with an effort. "Now leave me witch. Be at my office just before the end of curfew."

Snape drew in a great breath as he watched Hermione gather her knapsack up and walk unsteadily toward the classroom door. He pulled out his wand and removed the ward. Hermione opened the door and looked back at him, the expression on her face a mixture of desire, confusion and a bit of fear.

He stared back at her soberly.

"Go," he said softly, every muscle in his body tight with urgency. He'd end up doing her in his classroom if she didn't leave.

Hermione left and the wizard let out a sigh, wiping his face with one pale hand and looking down at his tented robes.

Tonight couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

A/N: This was originally a series of 17 short little chapters. More will be coming though I can't say when. It's sat fallow for nine months. I just thought I'd share it with you since I'm still a bit under the weather. Thanks for reading. 


	2. Retrieval

**Retrieval**

Hermione had both arms wrapped around her midsection as if she were in pain as she walked up the dungeon corridor, her entire body tingling. She had never felt like this before, so aching, so . . . so hot. Dear gods, the Professor was more alluring than she had ever fantasized about. The reality was so much more than the dream.

She swallowed as she navigated past sneering Slytherins, hardly seeing them as she headed for the Main Hall. He told her to come to his office tonight. Ordered her to in fact. Gods, he was going to shag her.

Suddenly, Hermione was almost frozen with fear. It came from no where, a frightening impulse. She stopped, looking around the Main Hall wildly. She felt rather faint. Professor Lecter was on his way down the Main Stairwell when he saw the witch standing by the armor. Her legs buckled.

The Muggle hurried down the stairs and across the hall to Hermione, catching her before she crumpled. He looked down at the witch, who looked up at him with a dazed expression.

Hannibal could feel her heart racing and scent a decidedly sexual odor. He also detected the faint smell of sandalwood, a scent Professor Snape wore. He looked at Hermione with a smirk as students gathered around her, Harry and Ron among them.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Harry asked, his eyes worried behind his glasses.

"I believe she's had a bit of 'excitement' Mr. Potter. Nothing life-threatening I believe," Lecter purred, passing the witch to him. Ron looked at her worriedly as well.

"Hermione, what happened? Are you all right?" he asked the witch.

Hermione blinked at Harry and Ron, then looked at Professor Lecter, who gave her a slight leer.

He knew. Hermione didn't know how he knew but she was sure the Muggle was aware of what happened between her and Professor Snape.

"I . . . just take me to Gryffindor tower," she said to her friends, straightening somewhat.

"All right," Harry said, taking one arm and Ron taking the other. They helped her up the Main Stairwell and the crowd dispersed. Professor Lecter looked after them. It appeared Professor Snape had made an impression on the witch. She was showing all the signs of being in heat, and being scared to death of her own inclinations. Snape was going to have quite a job pinning her down.

* * *

Hermione hid out in her room for the rest of the day, scared to death as she watched the clock. Curfew was fast approaching, but she didn't have the nerve to leave the tower and go to the dark wizard. Delicious feelings welled up inside her every time she thought about his kiss and how he felt against her. Severus Snape was no young wizard, but a man who knew what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

No matter how ready she felt earlier, Hermione didn't feel that way now, now that it was coming down to the crux of the matter. She was frightened.

She sat on her bed with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the clock on her wall as it chimed nine.

Snape waited in his office, a dark scowl on his face as curfew came and went. Hermione hadn't come. He sat at his desk, his desire boiling in his belly. He had a craving for the witch, and Severus Snape never denied himself what he desired if he could help it. And he desired Hermione Granger. Every fiber of his being longed to be skin to skin with the young witch, inside her, possessing her. It wasn't because the wizard had no control. He normally did. It was Hermione's desire for him that had brought him to this point. He couldn't remember any witch wanting him the way she did, and he wanted to experience what it would be like to possess a woman who truly wanted his attentions above all others. He had no doubt Hermione was a virgin and he had never taken a virgin. His lust was overpowering.

If he were his normal self, he would have taken a Deflating Draught and retired, but his imagination and libido were deeply invested in the witch. For most of the evening he had his own little fantasy occurring in his head, that of having the young witch sprawled in his four-poster bed, buried deep inside her.

He wasn't going to let that stay a fantasy for another night.

"Very well, Miss Granger. I gave you the opportunity to come to me. Now, I am forced to retrieve you," he breathed, casting a Disillusionment spell on himself, then a Silencing spell.

Professor Snape had a secret only known to Albus and himself. He had the ability to Apparate inside of Hogwarts. It was necessary in order to facilitate his safe return after suffering Voldemort's ravages. Sometimes he was left in such bad shape, he would have died if he had to wait outside the castle gates for assistance to come. He would Apparate directly to the Infirmary, sometimes barely breathing, where Poppy would immediately attend him.

Well, tonight, he wasn't heading for the Infirmary, but Gryffindor Tower itself.

Hermione would not deny him.

Wrapping his robes around himself, the Disillusioned Potions master disapparated, appearing in the Common Room, the sound of his arrival cloaked by the Silencing spell. There were three students about, the others having retired to their rooms. Snape didn't disturb them as they sat at a Wizarding Chess table, two involved in a game, the third student watching.

He immediately took the stairwell up to the girl's dormitory. They didn't fold because although Snape was male, he was a staff member and staff members had access. The wizard strode through the hallway, listening at each door for Hermione's voice. Finally, he came to the last door. It had a "Do Not Disturb, I'm Studying" sign hanging on the knob.

Standard Granger.

Snape didn't bother opening the door but Disapparated into her room.

He appeared at the end of Hermione's bed. She was sitting on it, staring at the clock, her face a bit ashen and her eyes wide. She held herself tightly as if she were cold. Snape looked at her, his chest rising and falling with desire the moment his black eyes fell on her. Suddenly, the witch looked toward him, seeing the shimmer.

Startled, she opened her mouth to scream.

"No you don't, witch," Snape hissed, stunning Hermione. She fell back on the bed, unconscious.

Snape walked around her four-poster, looking down on the witch before lifting her in his arms and Disapparating.

* * *

A/N: Ooh la la. Another little snippet. ;) This story is written in very short little chapters or snippets. I put all of them together for the first chapter. Thanks for reading. 


	3. A Meeting During Rounds

**Chapter 19 A Meeting in the Corridors**

Snape reappeared in his stark, austere bedroom. It only contained a large four-poster bed, wardrobe, dresser, small wooden chair and a clock rested on the wall. There was an adjoining bathroom as well with all the amenities. The wizard placed the unconscious Gryffindor down on the bed and stared down at her a moment before looking at the clock. He still had rounds to make.

The Potions master reached into Hermione's robes pocket and removed her wand, sticking it into his own pocket before exiting the bedroom, warding the young witch in securely. He'd be back shortly and then they could attend to the business at hand.

Snape walked up the dungeon corridor quickly, his robes billowing as he thought about the young woman in his bed. No doubt when she awoke she'd be frightened and quite possibly a bit furious about her abduction. Well, he had warned her. She should have come under her own steam rather than test his resolve. She could blame herself for this quick development. Hermione should have never asked him to kiss her . . . then she might have had more time.

Might have.

He entered the Main Hall and immediately went into stealth mode, searching for errant students, although distracted. He quickly perused the classrooms, hidden passages and niches, then made his way up the stairwell to the upper corridors.

As he entered the third floor corridor, he met Professor Lecter, who was carrying a torch. The muggle grinned unpleasantly as he approached the dour wizard, and Snape returned his smile with a little grimace. Lecter stopped before the wizard, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Making your rounds a bit hurriedly tonight, Professor," the Muggle said to the wizard knowingly.

"I am making my rounds as I always do, Professor Lecter," Snape snapped back at him.

Hannibal arched one eyebrow at the taller wizard.

"Hm. Perspiration, increased heart rate, the distinct odor of male arousal . . . I believe you are in 'rut' Professor Snape. I can also smell . . . fear. Female fear. Tell me, have you finally been driven to abducting the object of your desire?" Lecter purred at him.

Snape's face took on a murderous mien, his nose wrinkling severely. Lecter's maroon eyes rested on the pale wizard's face with a rather focused interest now, taking in the large size of his delicate, flaring nostrils.

"What are you insinuating?" Snape snarled at him, taken a bit aback by the Muggle's powers of deduction. He might not be a wizard, but his abilities were far beyond those of an ordinary Muggle.

Lecter's eyes rested on Snape coolly.

"You have a magnificent nose, Professor. Quite . . . extraordinary in its size, shape and range of motion. Were you aware that the nose is ninety-five percent cartilage?" he asked the wizard.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Snape snapped at him, wanting to address his first comment.

"Possibly everything. Have a good night, Professor," Lecter said to him, obviously distracted as he walked away as if he had never suggested Snape had Hermione.

Snape watched him go, his black eyes narrowed. Something was very odd about that Muggle. Very odd indeed. But he couldn't worry over that now . . . he had rounds to finish and a witch to return to.

* * *

Hannibal poured himself a glass of port and sat down in his armchair in front of the fire. He took an appreciative sip of the libation, then set it down on a small table that rested beside him, picking up a well-worn leather-bound book. He leafed through it, licking his lips as he sought a recipe. He found the page.

"Ah yes . . . here it is. Perfect," the Muggle breathed. "Hm. It needs to be singed over an open flame or plucked as I suspected to remove the hairs, then scrubbed and parboiled to remove the running blood. Yes. No doubt there will be ample meat as well as cartilage. Then it should be rinsed, cut into small pieces salted and cooked in water until tender along with presoaked salt beef . . ."

Lecter continued to read, his mouth watering over the list of ingredients.

_**2 lbs. fish (whole or fillet)  
1 lb. conch, cooked & chopped  
1 sm. hot pepper  
2 sm. eggplants (optional)  
5-6 qts. Water  
1 lb. smoked ham  
1 onion  
4-5 cloves garlic  
2 lbs. chopped okra  
2 lbs. kalalloo bush or frozen chopped spinach**_

Lecter read the recipe, swallowing slightly as he came to the part where the ham, fish, conch, chopped onion, minced garlic, okra, kalalloo bush (or spinach), peeled and chopped eggplant (optional), chopped hot pepper, salt beef and the most treasured ingredient were placed in a large pot and simmered together for an hour, then served in a bowl with a scoop of fungi, a kind of porridge made of cornmeal, water and vegetable oil.

"Yes. Yes. I simply MUST make this exotic meal. It will be delightful," he breathed, closing the book and gazing into the fire, drawing his tongue slowly over his lips as he imagined consuming the delicacy.

"Yes. Snout of Snape and Kalalloo. It will be outstanding. Simply outstanding and definitely on my menu."

* * *

A/N: Now, isn't THIS disturbing? Lolololol. Not Snape's beautiful nose:::snorts::: Thanks for reading. 


	4. In the Bedroom of the Potions Master

**Chapter 4 In the Bedroom of the Potions Master**

Slowly, Hermione regained consciousness, her head spinning slightly as she blinked up at the green canopy above her.

"What happened? Where am I?" she thought as she sat up in Snape's bed and stared at the austere surroundings. The room was dimly lit, only two small torches on the stone walls. The room smelled a bit, well, like a lab, though there was a slight sweetness beneath the medicinal scent. There wasn't much to look at. A dresser, wardrobe, chair, and a clock. She looked down and saw a huge Slytherin crest on the covers beneath her. She leapt off the bed as if it had suddenly become white-hot, staring at the silver serpent resting against the green field.

"Oh my gods, this is the Professor's bedroom! He did come and get me! Oh Merlin!" she gasped, running for the door and reaching for her wand as she did so.

It wasn't there.

"Shit," Hermione breathed, tugging on the doorknob desperately. It wouldn't budge. It was warded. She had been warded in.

Suddenly, her belly began to ache and the witch felt nauseous. She ran into the open door to the bathroom, up to the loo, dropped to her knees and heaved, nothing coming up. She heaved again, gagging and still nothing rose except a bitter taste in her mouth.

Oh gods, she wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for him.

Hermione heaved again.

* * *

Severus slowly and carefully opened the door to his bedroom, his dark eyes darting to the bed, noting immediately it was empty. He entered silently, looking about the room. Then he heard the sound of gagging coming from the bathroom. Quietly, he strode up to the door and looked in to see Hermione bent over the loo, clutching her stomach and heaving as if trying to turn herself inside out.

The wizard let out a slightly aggravated sigh as he looked at her profile, her eyes reddened and wet as she hovered over the bowl.

Circe's sodden sailors. He couldn't take the witch this way. He'd feel like a rapist. Contrary to whispered rumors, Severus Snape had never enjoyed forcing himself on anyone and wasn't about to start now. He had hoped for a nice, hot seduction of the torn little witch. He knew she desired him, and it would have been quite arousing to witness her surrender to him. But this . . . no . . . this was wrong.

Just as quietly as he entered the room, he exited it, heading for his stores to collect several potions to calm Hermione.

He would have to wait.

* * *

After rinsing her mouth with cold water from the basin, Hermione exited the bathroom. Nothing had come up, but the sick feeling remained with her. She had faced numerous dangers with Harry and Ron over the years, even helped in the Final Battle and had been next to fearless. But this situation, the idea of having the snarky Potions master shag her scared her to death. Yes, yes, she knew she was attracted to him powerfully, but the thought of actually being subject to the cold, dark wizard's lust was the most frightening thing she could imagine.

And it was because she couldn't imagine what it would be like in reality. Fantasies were only that. She couldn't seem to bring back the heat she'd felt this evening after he kissed, and more than kissed her. Fear of the unknown was blocking those delicious feelings. Gods, would he take her anyway?

Hermione sat back down on the bed and rested her face in her hands for a moment, then started as she heard the door click. Her face ashen, she stared as Snape glided in, the tall, dour wizard's black eyes resting on her as he closed the door behind him.

Hermione swallowed as he approached her.

Snape had the distinct impression of approaching a cornered, frightened little animal as he walked toward Hermione, who drew back on the bed until she was against the headboard, unable to even speak as she looked up at him.

Snape frowned at her.

"Good thing you had more courage when it came to figuring out how to face the Dark Lord, or we'd all have Dark Marks and masks," the wizard snapped at her, sitting down on the bed a little distance from the witch and pulling several bottles out of his pocket.

He unscrewed the top of one and held it out to the witch.

"Stop acting like a scared little rabbit and drink this," he growled, frustration clearly in his voice as his eyes swept over the Gryffindor.

"What is it? A lust potion?" she asked him tremulously.

Snape scowled at her. How dare she think he'd resort to artificial methods to shag her? He was tempted to tell her it was a fast acting poison but refrained from doing so.

"It is a Calming Draught. I witnessed your little bathroom dilemma. You have to have something on your stomach before you can bring it up, witch. Clearly, you haven't eaten a thing since this afternoon," he replied, frowning at her. "Take this. It will settle your stomach. Then I will return you to Gryffindor tower."

"Return me?" Hermione said, the ache in her belly subsiding somewhat as she took the bottle from the Potions master, who looked at her with glittering eyes.

"Yes. Return you. It is clear to me you are not ready for this mentally, despite . . ."

Here, the wizard's eyes swept over her small form again, narrowing slightly.

". . . despite how you respond to me physically. I don't believe you emotionally mature enough to handle me, Miss Granger. In that aspect, you are still . . . a child. I am no pedophile."

Hermione nearly spit out the potion she was drinking when he said this.

"What do you mean, pedophile? I am going to be nineteen soon, Professor. I am an adult!" she said to him, her eyes flashing now, her stomach calmed more by her growing anger than the draught. What did he mean she wasn't mature? She was probably the most mature student at Hogwarts. Everyone said so.

"In years, yes. But emotionally, Miss Granger, you are still a little girl. You got a bellyache for gods' sakes. That is not the reaction of a woman prepared for intimacy," he said to her, an eyebrow arched as her face grew black.

"But . . . but I AM a woman!" Hermione said, tossing the potion bottle back at him, clearly affronted now. So, she had a moment of weakness. She was entitled to that, wasn't she? It didn't mean she was immature. Just . . . just a bit wary.

Snape neatly caught the bottle in one pale hand, amusement on his face now as he saw how agitated Hermione was becoming. Her ashen face was now rather crimson.

"You . . . you abducted me. Of course that made me out of sorts," she continued.

Snape didn't bat an eyelash at this statement.

"I told you I would come for you if you didn't come to me," the wizard replied, attempting to pass her another potion.

Hermione shook her head. She didn't need anymore damn potions. Snape continued.

"Running into the bathroom and trying to bring up your internal organs because I did so speaks to me clearer than your protestations ever could. Now, I'm taking you back to your 'safe' little room . . . where you can curl up with your 'safe' little dreams of tangling with rather dangerous wizards without actually having to do so . . . "

Hermione turned so red she looked as if she were about to explode. Snape was glad he took her wand from her. It definitely looked as if an "Avada Kedavra" was in the making.

"How dare you make me sound like a coward! I'm not afraid of you!" she yelled at him furiously, throwing a tantrum. "You could do your worst and I could take it!"

Snape smirked at her.

"You have just proven to me exactly how immature you are, Miss Granger," he purred at her. "To even suggest you could 'take my worst' when you have no idea what my worst is, is quite a foolhardy declaration. You have never been with a man, witch and I assure you I am a man in every way. It's time for us to go."

Snape knew quite well that if he liked, he could reduce Hermione to shuddering tears inside of twenty seconds if he were that type of wizard. He was almost tempted to do it, but his better side won out. He stood up, pulled out his wand and cast a Silencing spell on himself. He grabbed Hermione's arm.

"What . . . let me go!" Hermione shrieked, struggling to pull away as he yanked her up and tight against his lean body. The contact calmed her immediately, as she felt him against her.

Snape Disapparated, the couple appearing in Hermione's room. He let the witch go and she looked up at him, feeling torn now, especially since the short contact had the effect of bringing those delicious little feelings back to the fore.

"Professor, I . . . I just . . ." she began.

"Save it for your dreams, Miss Granger," the wizard said silkily, tossing her wand on her bed then silently and quickly Disapparating.

Hermione stood there impotently for a moment, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides before she let out a frustrated shriek and threw herself on the bed.

Damn him. He was wrong, so wrong about her. She was a woman, and she was ready for sex. Gods damn him!

Back in the dungeons, Snape sighed as he undressed and readied himself for bed, hard as diamond. Damn the little minx. He should have ripped her robes off her and showed her exactly what being with him meant, especially after that "take your worst" statement.

But as usual, he had shown restraint in the face of great temptation.

It was an aspect of himself that he didn't find appealing at this moment as he fell into bed on his back, nude, erect and leaking, forced to take the situation in hand.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, no lemons yet. I thought a scared Hermione, then an angry Hermione would be amusing. No doubt she'll be on a mission now to prove to Snape she is "mature" enough for a shag. Lol. Thanks for reading. 


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